St. Valentine's Day Massacre...
"Sir, what can you tell me about your desserts?" The lady asks with the menu set directly in front of her.
Her date rolls his eyes.
This isn't going well for me either, but at least I don't have to drive her home.
"Well miss what would you like to know?"
"What is this chocolate tort all about?"
"Well miss it's a flourless chocolate tort, very rich, you'd love it." I say, pretty straightforward dessert.
"I don't understand, is it like a cake?" She continues.
"Miss, it's very rich, similar to a fudge cake."
She looks at me befuddled,"well is it a cake or isn't it?"
"Ma'am a torte is a type of cake, this one is made with no flour."
"I don't get it, is it like a pie, is that what a torte is?" She asks.
"Miss, that is a tart, this is like a fudge cake."
"Well what do you mean like a fudge cake, what's a fudge cake?"
My pager is buzzing furiously, I have about three tables of food to run, this is starting to get on my nerves.
Every table has been like this, I've always said I don't mind questions, but I prefer informed questions, like when people read the menu, which she clearly hasn't.
"Miss, its a rich chocolate cake, made with no flour."
"Well how can it be a cake if it hasn't any flour?" She manages to throw out all that I've tried to explain with this one for sure.
I just shrug.
"Well I don't like chocolate anyways, it makes me ill." She declares.
Then why the hell are you torturing me like this?!?
Is it your first time out?
It probably is, he date just holds his head in his hands.
Why would you want to know about something you don't even want?
"Miss is there anything else you might like?" I ask.
Her response is, "Are all Italian desserts so rich? I can't eat rich foods."
My short answer, "Yes they are."
If you want two sprigs of mint and a blueberry, well maybe down the street would be better off.
"Well what's this gelato all about, I saw something about it on the Olympics." Is her next query.
Before I can answer her date responds, "It's like ice cream."
Predictably she goes on, "Well what do you mean by like?"
Her date cuts her off, "Check Please."
I fled the scene much like Capone's men after the massacre of the North Siders.
This is one night that can't get any worse.
The managers didn't have the floor plan done until the first customers arrived, despite us having all reservations held in the book a week prior.
Of course they yelled at us all to hurry up and set up our section, once again despite the fact we didn't know where they were.
Once we got going it was clear that we underbooked as the restaurant was only full for about a half an hour period.
Incidentally this was a good thing because the kitchen fell apart about 7:30 or so because they couldn't handle the weak rush that was coming in.
I had over thirty minute ticket times for my two top diners, when the restaurant was half full.
Our expo was zoned out on Vikes and instead of getting another manager up there he just fucked around and yelled at us for not paying attention to our table's drink levels, all the while running obscene ticket times and not even bothering to communicate out concerns or trying to get the dinners out.
It's always nice getting cussed out for doing your job when they can't even handle theirs.
Talk about misplaced priorities, he can worry about the food, let me worry about my tables.
It was hell, diners that would be better off at IHOP or at the very most Applebee's were the rule, not the exception.
Rarely did one order any of the Valentine's Day features, but instead asked for salads, chicken fettuchini or the one sandwich we have on the menu, whatever was cheapest.
I had one good table for the night, thirty dollar two top that was a pleasure to wait on.
Beyond that 10% was the average, with my favorite tip being a couple of Euro-trash that left me $.85 on their $39.15 ticket.
White zinfandel and Coor's was the drink of choice.
I wish I had a great night, I wish I could come here and speak of all the fun I had and great guests and the good times had by all.
I think its time for a bartending gig, this server shit isn't cutting it much longer, I can tell you that.